


Stay for a Spell

by BanhTM



Series: Rainbow Rocket Stories [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts, Humor, Magic, Not sure where the plot will go, Rainbow Rocket, but I wanted a Harry Potter Au so I made one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanhTM/pseuds/BanhTM
Summary: Cyrus has been accepted in Hogwarts. Problem is, he never applied.
Series: Rainbow Rocket Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148357
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. The Letter

The flag on the mailbox is down, indicating that the mail carrier had recently stopped by.

Bills. Official documents, all bearing his parents' names. Cyrus scoops the pile into his arms, performs a second visual inspection, and heads back inside.

The kitchen table is the unofficial site for mail sorting. As he works, a fluffy breast tickles his cheek. There is an envelope clamped in Honchkrow's beak.

"Oh, how careless of me. Thank you." He can't afford to make mistakes when it comes to his parents' mail. If something gets lost, then it would be a great inconvenience on both parties.

After everything is sorted out, Cyrus rifles through the cabinet for a can of tomato sauce. He eats while he dusts the house, his mind tuned to the various domestic melodies from the dull droning from the refrigerator to the clicking of the ceiling fan.

Honchkrow insists on nudging that envelope into his hands. _What a peculiar letter,_ he thinks. _How did this get delivered without any stamps?_

_Wait._ There, on the front, is his name. The address he lived at. All written in big, black letters smack dab in the front.

On the back of the mysterious envelope is a purple seal bearing a coat of arms: an Arcanine, a Xatu, a Kangaskhan, and a Surperior bordering a gold-pleated _"H."_

His heart is pounding. "Where did you get this?" he asks the smirking Honchkrow. _Right. As if Pokemon can talk._ "Should I open it now? O-Or perhaps I should wait until…"

Cyrus doesn't have to wait long for the headlights to pull up to the driveway. He tucks the envelope under his shirt, exhales through his mouth, and opens the door.

"Welcome back, Father. Mother." He makes sure to keep his head down as he speaks. "How was your day at work?"

"Your report card was faxed to my office this morning. Tell your teacher I've opted out of that service. Wastes a lot of paper."

Cyrus winces ever so slightly. "Y-Yes." _It's all right. Just tell them._ "Erm… I…"

"Why are there black feathers on the floor? Did you let that dirty bird in again?"

"I-I'm sorry…"

"Instead of talking to Pokemon, why don't you do something about your grades? Perhaps we should have my coworker's son take over the company instead."

"No!" And Cyrus immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder, I promise." Those words have been exhausted by countless usage. He sees the tips of the socks, but crushing gravity prevents him from raising his neck. "Erm… I received a letter…"

"I'll need to finish some work at the office." Keys jingling. Heels clomping. "I'll be very busy, so only call me if there is an absolute emergency."

Mother leaves. Cyrus stands there, fingernails digging into his flesh, his throat refusing to unconstrict.

"I have an appointment with a client," says his father. "Remember to lock up the house."

"Father!"

That cry lingers in the thickening air. A speck of dust does not dare to fall.

"What is it?" An edge has crept into the older man's voice. "I cannot afford to be late."

"Can I… make you something to eat?"

"I'll grab something from the vending machine."

And that's that. Cyrus locks the door, and all the suppressed breath rushes out of his lungs. Honchkrow pokes its head out from the shadows of the stairwell. Once it ascertains that the house is safe, it regains its place on Cyrus's shoulder.

"I guess I'm opening this with you," he murmurs with a faint, halfhearted smile. Then a brilliant idea comes to mind. "Honchkrow, I know it's dark, but can you Fly me somewhere?"

Honchkrow puffs out its chest. _"Who do you think I am, lad?"_ its smirk seems to convey.

"Thank you. Let me check if the gas is turned off, then we can leave."

* * *

The lights are still on at the house surrounded by palm trees. The curtains lift after Cyrus knocks on the door.

"Good evening, Grandfather," he says.

Grandfather glances at the clock. Nevertheless, he invites his grandson into the warm, buttery glow of home.

"Cyrus, it's always great to see you, but isn't it a tad _late_ to visit?"

"Grandfather, look at this!"

The old man examines the odd envelope from all angles. "Well… congratulations? What scholarship did you win?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll find out soon." With trembling hands, Cyrus opens the envelope. Inside is a roll of parchment adorned with gleaming ink.

_Dear Mr. Cyrus,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Rowan, Headmaster_

The fire crackles in the hearth. Honchkrow sneezes.

"I've been accepted to _what?"_ Cyrus echoes.

"What scholarship did you apply to?" Grandfather huffs. A train ticket falls out of the envelope. Also included is a list of very strange things including but not limited to cauldrons and wands.

"What a cruel prank," Cyrus mutters.

"Sorry, son."

Cyrus deflates. And here he thought someone actually took the time to write something meaningful to him.

The old man pats his shoulder. "You should get back before it gets darker. I'll make you soup when you come tomorrow."

* * *

Cyrus comes over first thing tomorrow afternoon. "Grandfather, Honchkrow brought me another letter," he says before the old man can even open his mouth. "Four more came through my window last night. What if a business rival found out where Mother and Father lived? They're using me to get to them, but how did you find out I was related to them?"

"Cyrus, you're giving me a headache with your pacing," Grandfather snaps from his rattan chair. "Sit down before you tear up my rug."

Cyrus sits. "I went to the library," he continues. "There's no mention of a Hogwarts, not even in the children's stories."

"Did you even _sleep_ last night?"

"I think there's more to this."

"I think you need some sun."

"This prankster is very persistent."

Suddenly, an unstamped envelope shoots in from the window and smacks Cyrus on the head. Grandfather rushes outside, but there's no one around except for the playful Shelloses.

"Did you tell your parents yet?"

"No."

_"Will_ you tell them?"

A pause. "I don't know."

After painfully mulling it over, Grandfather sighs. "I'm only doing this because I know you won't sleep without your answers." He slaps his fedora on his head. "Fine. Let's go see if this 'Hogwarts' is real."


	2. The Nonexistent Platform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus catches his train.

The only address in the envelope is that of the Waterloo Station in London. Since Grandfather lacks a car, and since Honchkrow's back is too small, the two embark on the first train to the capital.

"Cyrus, may I see that list again?" Grandfather's brows are furrowed as he reads. "Looks like you'll need robes. A pointed hat. Ah, and you're not allowed to bring your own broomstick because you're a first year."

"Where does one purchase books on magical theory?"

"Local bookstores might stock them."

"I can only bring an owl, a cat, or a toad as a pet."

"Yessir."

Grandfather and grandson step off the train. The skies are muggy and overcast as always. Tourists clad in bright clothing stand out like hot weather in London.

"There's the costume store!"

_"Grandfather."_

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

They pass countless shops and pubs. Nothing off-the-mill. As they walk, Cyrus keeps his eyes peeled for people in cloaks or pointy hats: the type of people to carry broomsticks and owls.

"There's the station," Grandfather grunts. "Which one is yours?"

Cyrus takes out his ticket. "Platform Nine and Three Quarters at eleven o'clock."

Grandfather spits out his water. Cyrus sighs.

* * *

Asking around only yields odd staring. Apparently there is only a Platform Nine and a Platform Ten. There are no trains departing at eleven o'clock. Apparently big kids nowadays have nothing better to do than to mess with adults.

"Get some glasses, kid," barks the guard before he leaves.

An exhausted Cyrus shuffles back to his grandfather who's hiding himself behind a newspaper. "The Hogwarts Express leaves in ten minutes," the former mutters. His head is hurting. Cyrus resigns himself to observe the passing crowd with Honchkrow roosting in his laps.

_What a bustling station. Who knows how many people passed through these magnificent gates. How many shoes have stepped over its tile flooring?_ He plucks a big black feather and begins sketching the schematics of the railroads into his notebook. _Waterloo Station. Established…_

"—so many Muggles here—"

At that moment, Cyrus looks up to see a tall young man with fiery red hair jutting from his skull. He and a smaller man with curly black hair are staring at the dividing barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Both are pushing carts overflowing with valises as if they're moving regions.

"What an ugly barrier, Augustine."

"Lysandre, if they make Platform Nine and Three Quarters visible to Muggles, then what is the point of keeping Hogwarts a secret?"

"I see your point, but why do we have to run into this wall? What if I fracture a cheekbone?"

"Do not worry about it, mon ami. We will do it together."

Cyrus watches with widened eyes as the two tall men step back. One… two… They're running into the wall!

But the impact never comes. Cyrus is certain he hasn't blinked at all, yet… that curious duo is gone. Vanished into thin air, just like…

And people are moving about normally as if nothing had happened.

"Grandfather!" Cyrus gestures excitedly to the barrier. "I saw them! They went right through the wall! They were going to Hogwarts!"

The old man holds the newspaper to his forehead. "Let's go home."

Cyrus runs to the barrier. He feels the solid brick. Presses his ear against the smooth, cool earth. Nothing hollow behind there. Then he retreats back a good distance…

And he sprints. Grandfather lashes out but fails to stop his grandson from faceplanting into a brick wall.

* * *

Except… there is no impact. When Cyrus opens his eyes, he sees his hands. He sees that his bones are still safely tucked inside his body.

Golden light streams from high-ceiling windows, illuminating a magnificent train beside a platform marked…

"Platform Nine and Three Quarters!" Cyrus whispers in delight. _How can this grand a station be tucked behind a brick wall? It's almost like… like magic._

Crowds are packed tightly around the red-and-black train, and within the shifting mass Cyrus spots cloaks and pointed hats and broomsticks.

"All aboard the Hogwarts Express!" yells a conductor dressed in white.

"Eleven o'clock is quickly approaching, please begin boarding the train!" exclaims his twin donned in black.

"Grandfather! Do you see…" But the old man isn't here. Cyrus pokes his head into the brick wall, and he's back at Waterloo Station. "Grandfather!"

"URRA!" Thankfully, the tourists are too busy taking pictures to notice a disembodied head in the wall. The old man manually closes his jaw. "C-Cyrus? How… What… You just disappeared into the barrier!"

Cyrus has the distinctive feeling that only Grandfather can see him. "Hogwarts is real! There are people on this side dressed like wizards and witches!"

Grandfather has so many questions. "Cyrus, stop pulling! I can't get through the barrier!" He folds his arms, brows scrunching as he mulls his next words over. "I think… you should go for it. They sent you an invitation for a reason."

"I'm sorry?"

Grandfather glances over his shoulder. "I don't believe in magic, but after what I've seen… I think you'll make a great wizard, Cyrus." He pauses to fully realize what he's saying. "It'll be a good experience for you. Meet new people, make lasting friendships. Who knows, along the way you might discover something about yourself."

The clock is chiming on the other side. "Last call for the Hogwarts Express!" booms the twin conductors.

"I'll be fine," says Grandfather. "I'll take care of Honchkrow. When your parents ask, I'll… think of something. Remember to write back!"

Cyrus gives a deep nod. "Thank you so much. Hopefully I can show you what I've learned—"

"You're going to miss your train, son!" With one last pat on the head, Grandfather shoves his grandson back to the magical world. "Good luck, Cyrus!"


	3. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus sees magic for the first time.

"This way, this way!" yells Emmet, the conductor dressed in white.

"That way, that way!" shouts Ingo, the conductor dressed in black.

It is sheer chaos on the platform. Luckily for Cyrus, he's small enough to squeeze through bodies and luggage.

Fortunately, there is an empty compartment at the back of the train. The compartment is lavishly decorated from its velvet carpets to its gossamer curtains. This seat is so soft it can double as a bed.

While Cyrus dozes, his eyes remain open. He vaguely remembers seeing young men and women his age march down the aisle in billowing black robes.

"I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts!"

"I hope our Quidditch team wins again this year!"

"Urph! What do you have in your bags? Rocks?!"

"Of course they're rocks, Wallace. Why, is that not allowed?"

"YO, THIS SEAT TAKEN?!"

Cyrus jolts awake to tuna breath coming from a muscular man with a blue bandana. A smaller red head pokes out from behind the hairy giant.

"My apologies for Archie's rudeness," he says curtly. "All the seats are taken. Do you mind if we sit here?"

Cyrus shakes his head. "You can put your stuff on my side. I won't take up the whole seat."

Archie grins. There's nothing malicious behind his mirth. "Thanks! I'm Archie, and this nerd here is Maxie."

"My name is Cyrus."

"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Cyrus." Maxie has the appearance and tone of having bitten on something sour. He props his thick glasses up with the heel of his palm. "Did you manage to procure everything on the list they sent you?"

Cyrus adverts his gaze. "I didn't bring anything."

"Ah. That explains a lot."

* * *

Ingo the conductor collects tickets after the Hogwarts Express leaves London.

Cyrus's new compartment mates are currently arguing over whether the world needs more water or land. "Excuse me," he says softly. "Did you receive your tickets in the mail too?"

Archie stares at him. "We _bought_ our tickets? From the station. Everyone buys it there."

"Which window? How much was it?"

"The window under the clock tower," Maxie says slowly, masticating each word. "You can't mix up the Hogwarts Express with other Muggle trains… and I believe the standard fare is still one Sickle."

Cyrus tilts his head. "Sickle? Muggle?"

The friends exchange a look. "Y-Yes… silver Sickles, superior to bronze Knuts, inferior to golden Galleons. By Muggles, we mean the non-magic folks."

Clouds have dissipated, revealing clear blue skies. A pleasant breeze fills the compartment with the scent of fresh grass. 

The train is rumbling smoothly along. Archie has his feet on the table, his hands clasped behind his head. Maxie peers up from his _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ book to meet Cyrus's intense staring.

"What is it?" he grunts with a touch of irritation.

"My apologies." Cyrus drops his gaze to his hands. "Are you two… really wizards?" His image of wizards comes from those storybooks of _Merlin_ and _Camelot_ and _Morgan le Fay,_ not… _Archie_ and _Maxie._

Archie wakes up from his daydream of wrestling legendary fishes. "Cyrus, what the heck are with your questions? You trying to mess with us?"

"N-No, of course not." Great. He's off to a fantastic start. "I'm sorry."

"Just messing with you." Archie nudges Maxie, who quickly drops his rueful scowl. "Yeah, we're wizards. That's… why we've been accepted into Hogwarts… to hone our magic. Cuz it's a magic school."

Cyrus reads his letter again. Yes, that is his name. His parents' address. But he never applied to Hogwarts, much less ever tried to use magic…

"Archie and I aren't pureblood wizards, unlike that Slytherin lot," Maxie murmurs, his narrowed eyes focused on Cyrus instead of his books. "That means we have at least one Muggle in the family. In my case, my mom is a witch and my dad works for the weather institute."

Cyrus absorbs all that with a frown. "I see… Is the ability to use magic hereditary?"

Judging from Maxie's change of expression, he seems to pick up on the real question. "I've heard that a wizard or witch emerges from an all-Muggle family once in a blue moon." A slight flush creeps to his face. "Er… s-sorry about that, Cyrus. I thought you were feigning ignorance."

"What happened?" says Archie.

"Cyrus is a Muggle-born wizard."

"Oooh."

That term makes Cyrus feel uneasy. Unpleasant. But it doesn't sound like a pejorative label, based on the duo's tones. Rather, it sounds… sympathetic. Which is even worse.

Archie flashes a bright grin. "Cyrus, I know it's a bit personal, but may we see your wand?"

Cyrus stares blankly.

Maxie yanks his best friend back. "Idiot, how could a Muggle-born locate Diagon Alley? They don't sell magic in the Muggle world!"

"Stop talking about me as though I'm not here."

The duo's faces redden. Then Archie barks out a laugh. "Cyrus, look. This is my wand." An unassuming stick brimming with unseen power. "Byron at the wand shop said it's made from English Oak. Watch this.

_"Turn this water into Kyogre!"_

Nothing happens.

Maxie sniffs. "That is not how you cast magic. _My_ wand is made of cherry wood. Ahem.

_"By the awesomeness of Groudon, turn that frown upside down!"_

Crimson sparks fizzle from the tip of the wand. The shaft is too thin to house any hidden wires.

"That is amazing!" Cyrus gasps.

"It works!" Maxie exclaims. "See, I told you we're wizards!"

* * *

The train passes a ledge overlooking the sea. Dark clouds have settled over darkening skies. Golden flames flicker into the candelabras without of the need of a matchstick.

Archie claps his hands. "I have an idea! What happens if Muggle-borns—"

"Do not call me that."

"S-Sorry. Cyrus, try casting a spell with my wand."

Maxie frowns. "Don't you remember what Byron said? 'The wand chooses its damn owner!' What if something blows up?"

Archie waves a dismissive hand. "Cyrus doesn't have a wand of his own! He might be in trouble if he doesn't know how to use one when we arrive to Hogwarts."

Cyrus is doubtful, but he is curious. Archie's wand feels like a brick in his hand. It just feels _not right,_ a sensation that permeates even in his visceral organs.

He barely opens his mouth when the wand swings _him_ into the wall.

Archie cringes. "Ooof… sorry about that, Cyrus."

Maxie rolls his eyes. "I told you! Here, let me help you up."

* * *

It's been hours since Cyrus last saw his grandfather back at the platform (in the non-magic world?) What is he doing now? Is Mother and Father back at the house?

Maxie and Archie are blasting each other with spells that shoot water and dirt. They are considerate enough to not spray mud into their audience.

Suddenly, a booming roar resounds from the corridor. The compartment door collapses with the weight of the walking sunflower, Lysandre.

"Snake!" he screeches. "There is a SNAKE in the hall! That Slytherin degenerate summoned a _snake_ to spite on Gryffindor!"

"I didn't do anything!" bellows a tall young man with long green hair styled to resemble the prongs of a trident. "And stop hating on Slytherin, you washed up Gryffindor cosplayer! I hope you get Sorted into Hufflepuff!"

Lysandre pulls out his wand. "Chew on this, Lettuce! Expelliarmus!"

Lettuce flies back to the neighboring compartment. His crimson eyes glint underneath long strands of undone green hair. Before he can retaliate with a curse, the door slams open, hitting him on the head.

"What the hell is going on out here?" snarls a disheveled young man with a big forehead topped with a sharp widow's peak. "Don't you know who I am? I am Giovanni, and whoever messes with me will feel a world of pain!"

"Don't you know who _I_ am? I am Ghetsis, heir to the most prestigious pureblood lineage in all the magical world!"

"Great, I don't give a fu—"

Archie waves his hands. "Hey, let's all calm down."

"Unhand me, Hufflepuff pleb!"

Maxie stands. "Don't call Archie that, Lettuce!"

"How dare you, four-eyed nerd!"

Then a great hissing freezes everyone in place. Heads slowly turn to the colorful patterns of an Arbok's hood blocking the doorway.

_"Issss thiss the train to Hogwartsss?"_ it says.

Lysandre balks. Ghetsis and Giovanni turn their wands towards the snake. Archie and Maxie rush to protect Cyrus, who says, "Maxie, that snake is ta—"

"Stupefy!" Giovanni yells. Crimson lighting shoots from his wand, the sparks slamming into Arbok with a loud **_crack!_**

Ghetsis waves his wand with a loud "Incendio!" that hurls emerald green fire into the cobra.

_"You will not like it when I am angry,"_ growls Arbok. Then gazes connect _. "Hm? You, niño. Tell your friendsss I'll give them two minutes before I sssic this room with poison."_

Instinct takes over, and Cyrus tackles Giovanni down. The latter happens to latch onto Ghetsis's hair, bringing him down as well. As the spells rock the small compartment, Arbok slithers to the open window.

Before it jumps out, the snake flashes a wicked smirk to a shooketh Cyrus. _"Sssee you sssooon, niño."_


	4. Across the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chance to go back.

There are no snakes by the time the twin conductors barge into the carriage. Instead of a poisonous two-storey tall creature terrorizing semi-innocent humans, they see two big kids pinning a much smaller one on the floor while two more unsuccessfully intervene.

Fortunately, the adults break up a potentially scarring duel from breaking out. Nosy onlookers are pressed outside the compartment until Ingo shoos them away.

After everyone calms down, the conductors manage to put the story together: there was a venomous Arbok on the Hogwarts Express. It suddenly materialized in Lysandre's compartment, and he ran outside to see Ghetsis holding up his wand. Argument. They fell into Archie's compartment, woke up Giovanni, came face-to-face with the serpent, only for it to jump out the window.

"But no one is hurt?" says Emmet.

"He tackled me!" Giovanni snaps.

"So only bruised egos," says Ingo absently. "But no one was bitten?"

"No?" Maxie squeaks.

Emmet and Ingo finish taking notes. "Your friend did the right thing, stopping your magic. Provoking a serpent is never the wisest thing to do."

Veins strain against Ghetsis's forehead. "But—"

"The wind must have carried the creature into the train," hums Emmet. "High winds tonight indeed."

"Brilliant deduction, dear brother," adds Ingo. "Now, everyone back to your compartments please. Go on now."

After Ghetsis and Giovanni grudgingly shuffle away--Giovanni shoots Cyrus a poisonous glare before the door slams shut—Emmet and Ingo return to their stations.

"Don't you think it's strange, Emmet?"

"Yes, very strange, Ingo."

"Our fathers have driven this train. Their forefathers and great forefathers."

"Never had incidents of a rogue Pokemon, _especially_ a serpent, infiltrating our magical barriers."

The twins stop before the driver's cab. With a snap of the fingers, the candelabras of the train flare to life.

"Could it have been summoned from the inside?" Emmet mutters.

"We have ears on the train, and there was no mention of such an incantation," Ingo mumbles. "In any case, we absolutely must not let that happen again."

* * *

It's getting darker outside. Cyrus fails to shake off the frost gathering in his spine.

"Archie, stop putting Kyogre stickers on your valises," Maxie is saying under the warm glow of the lamps.

"Maxie, stop bringing dirt samples with you," his friend shoots back. Then he notices their pale passenger. "Cyrus, you still hung up on that incident? The conductors said there's nothing to worry about."

It's not the incident itself that has Cyrus on edge: it's the fact that the snake _talked_. He could understand it as if it was human speech. Was this normal?

"Can you two talk to Pokemon?" Cyrus says.

"Don't be ridiculous," Maxie replies as he double-checks his stuff. "We're wizards, not mad folk."

The speakers blare to life _. "We are approaching Hogwarts. Please leave your stuff behind; they will be taken over separately."_

Maxie accidentally knocks over a cage, startling the rust-colored owl that snoozed inside. It wakes up with a horrifying screech. "Cyrus," he says without batting an eye. "Tell me at least you have an owl."

Cyrus replies with a gurgling sound in his throat.

"Owls deliver important mail," Archie explains. "You can also send letters to your parents in the Muggle world."

"Oh."

"How much money do you have?" Maxie's smile slips when Cyrus presents his Muggle money—a measly 120 Poke, not enough for a Fresh Water. The former scratches his nose. "So… you have no wand, now books, no owl… What else did you _not_ bring?"

Cyrus wishes he can melt down to these satin seats. He can imagine the horrific first day of school: him bumbling about like a drifter in an aristocrat's chateau. Perhaps he should hide somewhere and ride along for the return trip.

Archie and Maxie are whispering heatedly about something with the occasional pointing at Cyrus. They pull him aside. And the next thing Cyrus knows, he's being lent Maxie's robe out of the fifty spare ones he'd brought along. They fit, but… Cyrus isn't sure how to feel about that. He doesn't feel magical at all… rather, he feels like a nerd attending a cosplay convention in downtown London.

In other words, he feels stupid.

* * *

"This way, this way!" says Emmet.

"That way, that way!" says Ingo.

Cyrus sticks with his compartment mates as they follow Ingo out the platform. The dark night would've swallowed the students if not for the hovering will-o-wisps.

Ingo leads half of the bewildered students into the direction of the saline breeze. His dark uniform blends into the darkness, so everyone has to keep close to each other.

"We should've followed Ingo instead," Maxie huffs.

"You mean Emmet," Archie says.

"Watch your step!" shouts Ingo.

The path down the mountain is draped in ivy, rough and slippery. At the end of the trail sleeps a black, glassy lake. And there, looming in the center, ramparts glimmering under the sheen of a full moon, is a magnificent castle.

"That's Hogwarts?!" Cyrus gasps louder than he intended to. A few students snicker at his reaction, but most are also stunned by the sight.

Ingo tips his cap. "Yes sirree, the one and only. Oh, Emmet is already down there. Let us hurry."

* * *

Emmet and Ingo reconvene near a shallow embankment that yawns out to the sea. They split and direct students into the waiting dinghies. "No more than six per ship." And that's how Cyrus ends up with the two people who hated his guts from a bad first impression.

"Reckon he can float?" whispers Ghetsis.

"Only one way to find out," replies Giovanni with a nasty smirk.

The fleet sails smoothly in silence, partly due to the twin conductors' watchful eyes. Unseen currents guide the boats to a secret opening shrouded in vines. Beyond the hidden harbor lies a flight of long, winding stairs.

At the end of the grueling climb is a set of mahogany double doors. If Cyrus wants to flee, this is his only chance to do so.

The conductors push through the doors, showering the students in brilliant golden light.


	5. The Sorting Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prospective students wear The Hat TM.

The entrance of the castle is lavished in decadence from the towering marble pillars to the crystal chandeliers to the stained glass windows that pulsate as if they are alive.

The doors close with a final boom.

"I can't feel my legs," Maxie moans—and yelps when Emmet smacks his kneecaps with his cap.

"You can rest later," says Ingo. "We will be late to the Sorting Ceremony."

As the nervous First Years stumble down the carpeted halls, two tall witches clad in purple approach them. One wears a cheery smile while the other dons a stern scowl. It dawns on Cyrus then that he'd met more twin today than he ever did his whole life.

The conductors tip their caps. "Ma'am."

The woman with the softer face waves while the other nods. "Oh, are these zhee First Years?" The former speaks with a heavy accent, although it's debatable if it's real. "They do get smaller each year, n'est-ce pas? How is everyone?"

Muted replies.

"Je m'appelle Fantina, and zhees is Jupiter," the witch continues with her hands clasped under her chin. "We are… dun dun dun! Your potential professeures! Everyone, give it up for Ingo and Emeet for being such lovely guides!"

"Emmet and Ingo," Jupiter grunts. Fantina waves a dismissive hand.

After the two conductors leave, Fantina gestures forward. "Follow me! Zhee Sorting Ceremony awaits!"

* * *

Fantina has ridiculously long strides. As she launches into an embellished yet interesting history of Hogwarts (established in the Middle Ages, school of Merlin the Legend), Jupiter is jabbing her wand at untucked shirts, disheveled hair, and sloppy robes. It doesn't take long for some students to develop negative impressions of her.

"Cyrus."

Cyrus jumps. "Y-Yes, Maxie?"

"Wait up… hoh…" Maxie blows the perspiration off his glasses. "Which House do you think you'll be Sorted into?"

"House?"

Maxie puffs out his chest. "The four Houses in Hogwarts are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House values certain characteristics of its members—"

"Hufflepuffs don't discriminate."

"Archie's right. The criteria for Hufflepuff is almost nonexistent—"

"That doesn't mean they're a bunch of bumpkins."

The best friends glare at each other.

"Gryffindor values bravery," Maxie continues with a sniff. "Ravenclaw values wit and commitment. They're charismatic, intelligent—"

"And vain," Archie grumbles. "Hufflepuff, on the other hand, are patient and loyal. They accept you for who you are."

The best friends lock eyes again. "However, both Houses agree that Slytherin is an unpleasant lot," Maxie murmurs. "They produced the most Dark Witches and Wizards of the four Houses… and they're not ashamed to boast."

_"Dangerous_ people," Archie adds. "Their founder was a pureblood elitist."

Cyrus's stomach turns cold. Pureblood? Dark Magic? What kind of witchcraft… oh. Why is he even surprised at this point?

And the next thing he knows, he has carpet in his mouth. Cue snickering from Ghetsis and Giovanni.

Jupiter smacks the bigger students on the back of their heads. "If you make everyone miss the Sorting, you should look forward to not getting fed."

* * *

Lit aglow by thousands of floating candles, the Great Hall is a giant chamber that can fit the biggest planetarium within its cozy walls. If Cyrus follows the pillars upwards, he will see not a roof but a sea of glittering constellations.

Four tables stretch down the hall. Red, yellow, blue, and green banners denoting the House Pokemon. The upperclassmen have arrived first and are now gawking at the scared freshmeat in the corner.

Maxie swallows—hard. "I heard the Sorting process will be very painful. Some say you have to take a test. I hope I studied enough of the 1,306 pages of _Hogwarts: A History_ …"

Beyond the House tables is the High Table which hosts the faculty. Ingo and Emmet are sitting at the far end. In the center, situated on a golden chair is…

A chill taps Cyrus's heart when gazes connect. Fire blazing behind steely eyes. A powerful aura that crushes his spine.

"That's Headmaster Rowan!" Archie whispers fiercely. "He's so legendary that he beat up Dark Witches and Wizards with his bare fists!" Cyrus has the distinct feeling that Rowan is glaring directly at him. "It's okay," Archie adds reassuringly. "I heard he hasn't laughed since he graduated from Hogwarts, and that was a _loooong_ time ago."

Gooseflesh suddenly prickles Cyrus's neck. To his right, Giovanni wears an intense, almost murderous face. The ire isn't directed at Cyrus, however, but to a witch in the High Table—the one clad in red with thick black hair. "'I'll show you how wrong you are," Cyrus hears Giovanni hiss.

Archie's voice draws Cyrus back to reality. "I hope we get into the same House. Maxie can flaunt by himself in Ravenclaw."

"O-Or you can… sit there in Hufflepuff by yourself!" Maxie retorts with reddened face. "I'll show Cyrus my soil collection while we heat up Lava Cookies…"

Jupiter slams a goblet against the table. "Shut up!"

"S-She means to quiet down!" Fantina yelps. "Because it is time to begin la Sorting Cérémonie!" With a dramatic flourish, she unfurls a scroll that unrolls down the halls and up the walls.

Perched on a stool in the front is a battered brown hat. "How unsightly," Lysandre mutters from somewhere in the crowd. For a while there is complete silence. Then the hat perks up, and a flap of fabric opens like a mouth.

Most people plug their ears while Cyrus stares on in wonder. "That hat is singing!" he exclaims.

"Of course," Maxie grunts. "It _is_ an enchanted object."

When the song quiets, polite applause sweeps through the hall.

"Jupiter and I will take turns reading names," says Fantina. "When we call you, sit here to be Sorted, s'il vous plait! Ahem. Sycamore, Augustine!"

Lysandre's friend gives a quick peck to the cheek before hurrying to the center. He sits with his knees locked as Jupiter slips the Sorting Hat over his head.

"RAVENCLAW!" booms the Hat.

The table in blue erupt in thunderous cheers. A few older Ravenclaws exchange cheek kisses to the new underclassman.

"Lysandre!" Jupiter barks.

No one is surprised when the Hat announces, "GRYFFINDOR!" As the table in red roars, money is exchanged between robes.

More names are called. Sometimes the Hat takes longer to decide while others are immediately deferred to their Houses. "Stone, Steven" goes to Gryffindor. "Cynthia" goes to Gryffindor. So does "Lance," "Alder," "Wallace," and "Diantha" in rapid succession.

Maxie whistles. "Wow, a block of Gryffindors? They must be the Champion lineage I've been hearing about. Word on the street is that they're the embodiment of the traits Godric Gryffindor coveted the most."

"What an unpleasant lot," Ghetsis can be heard muttering to some of his new buddies.

"Maxie!" Fantina calls.

Said student sucks in a painful wheeze. His glasses slip out when he runs, so he has to circle back to retrieve them, much to the laughter of his audience. He's as red as his hair when the Hat comes down.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Ravenclaw and Archie burst into cantankerous hooting. A dazed Maxie plops down to his seat, mouth agape.

"Giovanni!"

The witch in red's lips curl. Giovanni shoves Cyrus aside and jams the Hat on his head. Silence. The Hat's brow wrinkles as if the two are silently arguing.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The witch in red drops her chalice of wine. Smirking, Giovanni shoves his back into her face and saunters to the rowdy table in red.

"Archie!"

"That's me! See ya, Cyrus!" Archie bounces over to the smiling Fantina. Off to the side, Maxie has his fists stuffed into his mouth.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table in yellow welcomes Archie with open arms. While they celebrate, a cold claw grips Cyrus's throat. Blood-red eyes are piercing his back with the intent to kill, a tri-pronged shadow looming closer, closer…

"Dennis!"

Ghetsis's malicious intent immediately breaks. "It's Ghetsis!"

"Get your ass over here!"

Ghetsis mumbles some unsavory words before turning back to Cyrus. "Better watch your back, Mudblood," he hisses. He stalks to the center, where he stands eye-level with the scowling Professor Jupiter. She rams the Hat through his green antennas.

"SLYTHERIN!" blurts the Hat before it touches his scalp.

The table in green clank their golden plates noisily while the other tables look on with… disbelief? A slight yet heavy tension fills the air.

More names. Cyrus's throat has constricted so tightly it feels as if he's drowning. There aren't many people left now. This situation reminds him of a group project with the popular kids as team leaders.

Well… Archie did say that Hufflepuff accepted everyone. Do they accept impostors too?

"And that's all!" Fantina declares. Cyrus's stomach plummets. Of course. He ducks his head and disappears into the shadows.

"Wait." Jupiter snatches the scroll. "Tch, Fantina, what is this?"

"Zut alors! I thought that was la smudge!" She flashes an apologetic smile, but by then everyone is too busy chattering to notice. "Cyrus? Do we have a Cyrus in here?"

"Serves him right," Giovanni huffs.

Ghetsis shakes his head. "What did I tell you?" he says to his new buddy, a young man with square glasses and a blue swirl around his golden head. "Mudbloods don't know their place."

Archie and Maxie look on with concern.

Meanwhile, Cyrus had somehow navigated through the labyrinthine halls back to the double doors. They won't budge. He scales the wall to the open windows and is about to swing a leg over when an icy hand grabs his arm.

_"Aren't you a tad too soon to go?"_

A foggy white face smiles at the shocked student. A gentleman clad in a purple, bloodstained shawl with soft, droopy eyes like crescent moons. _"Beyond the magic barriers of Hogwarts, danger lies_ ," he continues in a gentle murmur. _"It will be a great shame if you perished before your hour of demise."_

Heels rampage down the glided tiles. The specter chuckles. _"I am the Head Ghost of Ravenclaw. Stay alive."_

And that's when a claw yanks Cyrus down by his ankles. "Why are you here?" Jupiter barks. "You're holding up the Ceremony—"

"Please let me go," Cyrus whispers. "That invitation was a mistake—"

Jupiter drags him back to the stool where Fantina gleefully slaps the Hat on his head. Fortunately, the brim is wide enough to swallow his entire face.

So why did the chatter stop? He can hear his erratic heartbeat thrashing in his skull.

_"Interesting,"_ murmurs a faint voice in his hear. _"Very interesting that you are even here at all… Why, you are quite literally a walking time bomb."_

Cyrus feels sick to his stomach.

_"I am very intrigued in what fate has in store for you."_ The Hat chuckles darkly _. "Tut tut, now where should your new House be…" A dramatic pause. "I proudly cast you into…_ SLYTHERIN!"


End file.
